Dangerous Gentlemen Page 13

  He grunted. “Your sentiment is unfounded, Miss Partington. I am not a good man and you’d do well to remember it. See the concerned look in your cousin’s eye as we approach? It is fully justified. I am a rogue and you’d do well to steer well clear of me. Now, good day. I apologize for my ill mood. Your sister would be wise not to enter into discourse with me if she’s of a timid nature.”

  * * * * *

  Pique replaced Hetty’s trepidation after Araminta jumped down from the phaeton, saying brightly, “Hetty, dearest, perhaps you should politely decline the offer of a ride with Sir Aubrey, since he says he fears he’s not to be trusted to be civil and is bound to upset you in his present thunderous mood.”

  Just wait until they we’re out of sight. Hetty managed to quell her response to the surge of feeling that powered through her when Sir Aubrey helped her up beside him.

  For the moment she would not playact for the benefit of her sister and cousin, who might have been curious as to why the pair departed, stone-faced and staring straight ahead, but she would say her piece when the chance presented itself.

  By the time they rounded a bend, she’d prepared a spirited defense, but Sir Aubrey caught her off guard.

  “You don’t look like the sort up for that kind of lark, Miss Henrietta.” He slanted a cold look across at her. “When am I to be revealed for the vile seducer you have unwittingly made of me?”

  Of course Sir Aubrey thought she’d set out to trick him into marriage.

  “Oh, sir!” Hetty cried, wringing her hands. “You bear no blame whatsoever. It was entirely my doing, nor did I enter into the charade with anything other than a desire to save my skin, for I was certain you were going to slit my throat that first night.”

  The confused horror with which he regarded gave her made her gut twist. It was easier, she found, to look at the passing equipages on the sandy circuit rather than at him but at last she had to answer his inevitable question.

  Sighing, she turned to face him. “When Cousin Stephen caught me watching you at Lady Kilmore’s ball, he warned me you were a dangerous man. He insinuated you had a secret that was so terrible you’d do anything to keep it.”

  “A secret? Pray go on.”

  Hetty didn’t want to go into the details right now. They both knew what they were. She shrugged. His eyes bored into hers with flinty purpose and how she wished she had the words and means to turn them limpid with love. She’d grown used to fond caresses and loving looks. His cold anger was more terrible than anything she could have imagined. Haltingly, she went on. “After I was in the lady’s mending room I took a wrong turn, which led me to your chamber. The door was open and I was curious, for I’d recognized your cane—”

  “My cane? How did you know it was my cane?”

  “Well, it’s very distinctive and I’d admired you from afar for a long time so I knew it well.” She bit her lip. “But until that night I’d not known you’d kill to protect your secrets—”

  “Kill? Good god, you know very well I said it in jest. Nor have I any secrets!”

  “Well, you can’t blame me for believing at the time what was said of you. When I lost my way and saw the door to your chamber open, curiosity got the better of me. Then you returned—”

  He grunted then said in tones laced with irony, “And I was so fearsome you told me you were a lady of the night.”

  Hetty raised her eyebrows as she looked at him. “In case you’ve forgotten, sir, your shirtsleeves were covered in blood. You told me you’d just killed a man. I’d been given the impression you were hiding a secret so terrible you would kill to protect it so I simply agreed with your assumption I was there on legitimate purposes.” She cleared her throat. “Well, as legitimate a purpose like that can be if I were supposedly a lady of the night.”

  His scowl had deepened. His horror was patent. “Dear God, you really thought I might murder you. I’d just fought off a dog that was about to tear my throat out. I was in a foul mood, I do not excuse that. But for you, a respectable young lady, a virgin, to be so terrified you’d succumb to my less-than-loving advances…”

  He could not go on and Hetty, who was becoming increasingly distressed by his response, said quickly, “But they were loving. And you were transformed from the frightening, angry gentleman who’d found me moments before into a lover who showed kindness and consideration. The whole experience was even more thrilling than I’d expected.”

  “Good God, you succumbed because you were terrified of me!” She drew back at his angry bark. His face was suffused with rage. “You did not love me. You feared me! You just admitted it! It was the only reason you had anything to do with me.”

  In a small voice Hetty said, “I came back to you…for more, didn’t I?”

  “Ha!” He shook his head and his lip curled. “I’d ruined you already. What choice did you have? You were led by your innocence and your fear.”

  “No, sir, by my heart—”

  “Then all the more reason to wish for nothing more to do with me. I’ll only destroy your illusions. I’ll break your heart and you’ll soon come to hate me.”

  “I won’t have the chance if I’m never to see you again.”

  He’d been staring loftily ahead. Now his head whipped ‘round. “That all depends on…” His tone gentled. “I have ruined you, Miss Henrietta, and as a gentleman I am required to save your honor. I offer you two choices—marriage,” he paused ominously, “without my heart. Or, if you get out of this free of scandal, then the choice I favor, a clean parting of the ways.”

  Devastated, Hetty stared back at him. “So you would marry me if I desired it?”

  He huffed out a breath. “I just said I would. I am a gentleman. I will not see you ruined. I would, however, wish you a better future than that. One without me.”

  “You would marry me but you would withhold your heart? What foolishness.”

  He nodded again. “I would leave you in the country the moment I could and live up to my reputation as a heartless villain. You would have every material possession I had the means to grant you but,” he tapped his heart, “I would have nothing to offer you here, Hetty.”

  Hetty bit her trembling lip. “You were going to set me up in a pretty house so you could visit me whenever you wished. Yesterday you wanted me. Desired me.”

  “Yesterday I was acting like a man who knows he can discard his mistress the moment he tires of her. A wife is not such an easily dispensed-with commodity and I would not build up your hopes in the early days when infatuation is based on falsehood, only to see you suffer more acutely for your blind faith later.”

  “That’s not how it would be,” she whispered. “You know it’s not.”

  They were nearing the home straight. Stephen and Araminta could be seen in the distance.

  Sir Aubrey slowed the horses and fixed her with an intense look. “So what’s it to be? Marriage?”

  The greatest, loneliest feeling she’d ever experienced seeped through her. Slowly, Hetty shook her head. “I cannot hold you to something that is such anathema to you, even if it would give me the greatest joy to prove you wrong.”

  She drew in a quavering breath. “From the start, I knew Araminta was the sister you would choose. Goodbye, Sir Aubrey. You have my blessing, and my wish for your great happiness.”

  * * * * *

  “Well, Sir Aubrey was in a less than pretty mood this afternoon, Hetty,” Araminta remarked once Hetty was set down and their erstwhile host departed with the requisite courtesies, namely a terse farewell for the girls and a frosty nod directed at Stephen.

  Hetty’s insides cleaved as she clung to Stephen’s arm, Araminta on his other as he navigated them through the well-dressed crowd. Stephen seemed not to notice. “No doubt having the very time of it trying to decide which of you to choose since you both for some extraordinary reason favor his advances.” Hetty gave a little hiccup and both pairs of eyes turned to her. “Good Lord, Hetty, don’t tell me you’re cast down about it?” asked
Stephen while Araminta let out a little trill.

  “I can’t believe, Hetty, you think he’d seriously consider you. Why, you’re the absolute opposite of everything he finds attractive.”

  “And what do you know about that?” Stephen asked in dampening tones when he saw Hetty’s distress. “Do you not think Sir Aubrey would be as charmed by your kind and self-effacing sister as he would a showy piece? I’m sure he must be tired of young women throwing themselves at him.”

  He sent Araminta a pointed look but Hetty was too distraught to respond with anything more than another truncated sob.

  She did not care that they must guess at the cause of her distress when she raced up the steps once they reached their townhouse.

  The butler was slow in opening the door and as she waited, she heard Stephen ask Araminta, clearly bemused, “She can’t possibly be in love with the fellow, can she? I thought she barely knew him.”

  Then Araminta’s thoughtful response, “Perhaps Hetty has more secrets than we realized.”

  Chapter Ten

  Hetty was lying on her bed later that evening when her mother quietly entered the room.

  “My poor darling,” she said, taking a seat by Hetty’s side and filling her with the comfort she always felt at her mother’s lavender-scented presence. “Araminta said you were feeling poorly and suggested I see what I could do for you.”

  “I doubt the concern came from Araminta,” muttered Hetty, enjoying the gentle hand massage her mother was giving her. “What did she really tell you?”

  “Well, to be honest, she said it appeared you’d lost your head over some unsuitable rogue. I, however, would suggest you’ve lost your heart. You never were in danger of losing your head. It’s far too sensibly screwed on.”

  Hetty closed her eyes and said miserably, “Not in this instance. Araminta’s right. I have lost my head and my heart and no doubt I’ll suffer for it the rest of my life.”

  “Come, my darling, it can’t be that terrible. Not if you barely know the gentleman as Araminta says.” Lady Partington’s tone hardened. “Sir Aubrey would not be my choice of husband for you, Hetty. Stephen doesn’t think at all highly of him.”

  “And why should Stephen’s opinion count for more than mine?” Hetty sniffed. “If he told you Sir Aubrey was the best candidate a girl could hope for you’d be counseling me very differently. All these unfounded rumors.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I only wish the truth were known.”

  “Really, Hetty darling.” Her mother sounded put out. “Cousin Stephen works in the Foreign Office so of course he knows things we can’t possibly be expected to know. We have to take his opinion when it’s offered. Now come along, my love, and drink this. Martha has just warmed it and it’ll make you feel much more the thing.”

  Grumbling like the child she’d so recently been, Hetty allowed her mother to help her into a sitting position before taking the fragrant milk. It was hard to attend to these well-meaning platitudes when all she could think about was how she was going to disprove the rumors everyone insisted precluded Sir Aubrey from being an acceptable suitor. Not that he was going to marry her.

  Nevertheless, she would be the one responsible for removing the tarnish that blackened his name. He might not thank her for it in the way she wished, but the thought of it made her feel strong and powerful.

  * * * * *

  After a great deal of tossing and turning and soul-searching during the night, Hetty felt much better. She could accept now that while she was not the bride Sir Aubrey would choose, she could at least be responsible for advancing his happiness and good fortune. Advancing other people’s happiness had always given her pleasure.

  In this lighter, virtuous frame of mind, she went riding with Stephen in the morning, attending to him with all the cheeriness of her old self so that he remarked, “Well, my dear, I’m glad your sister’s pronouncements regarding your foolishness turned out to be so off the mark.”

  “I suppose you mean Sir Aubrey.” Hetty slanted a disgusted look at her cousin. “Araminta thinks Mr. Woking is my perfect match.”

  Stephen matched her grimace. “My dear girl, I would regard any relation of Lord Debenham with as much enthusiasm as I do Sir Aubrey. Lord Debenham might not be in the same league as your friend Sir Aubrey but he has a reputation for debauchery nonetheless. I’d much prefer to see you wed someone kind and gentle who’d appreciate your quiet charm as much as your sister is admired by the more adventurous for her dazzling attributes.”

  Later that day, when Jane was brushing her hair, Hetty announced she needed her maid to accompany her on a shopping expedition for a new pair of York tan gloves. It was only when they were in the carriage that she leaned across to reveal the real motivation for their journey. Wanting to make amends to Jane was part of it.

  “I know you were cross with me for saying anything to your young man but the fact is we’re about to visit him now. He’s promised I can view the letter in his possession.” At Jane’s horrified gasp, Hetty added quickly, “You mustn’t worry, Jane, for this will all end very well.” She truly did believe that. “Yes, it was wrong of Jem to take the letter but it was a good thing, otherwise Lord Debenham would have destroyed it. I’m certain that once I read its contents I will know how to use it to exonerate Sir Aubrey.”

  Jane’s eyes grew large. “Jem is expecting you?” She shook her head. “Oh miss, I thought he was expecting Miss Araminta.”

  “And why my sister when she knows nothing of this?”

  Jane twisted her hands in her lap while a kernel of doubt lodged in Hetty’s breast.

  “Miss Araminta quizzed me this morning,” said Jane. “She sounded as if she knew all about it. Said, in fact, you’d asked for her help as you were afraid of approaching the matter alone and that she’d agreed she would go and see Jem and discover if there were anything to this letter business.”

  Hetty’s mouth dropped open. Her brain grasped for the true meaning in all this.

  Jane looked more distressed than ever. “I didn’t know it were a secret and…I dunno but I might of said something.”

  The familiar impotent rage Hetty always felt when her sister walked roughshod over her dripped through her veins like excoriating poison. Araminta was yet again one step ahead of her. Hetty, the quiet and meek little sister everyone overlooked, could never keep up. Didn’t this just prove it? While Hetty had done all the hard work and set the stage for triumph, Araminta was going to reap the prize.

  Tears pricked her eyelids as she sank back against the squabs and surrendered to the jolting motion of the carriage ride.

  “Miss, are you all right?” Jane sounded anxious. “We’ll still visit my Jem, won’t we? After all, we want to know what Miss Araminta plans to do next, don’t we?”

  Little matter if Jane’s preoccupation was with seeing her young man.

  Wearily, Hetty ran the back of her hand across her heated brow. “Yes, Jane, we’ll still see Jem. Araminta might have read the letter and told him it contained nothing of any account.”

  Her earlier anticipation turned leaden as she stepped out of the carriage. She patted the floral festooned bonnet she wore, a ridiculous piece of frippery she’d chosen specially for her intended triumphant progress from visiting Jem to seeing Sir Aubrey. Her heart shriveled inside her chest.

  She should be used to being left behind. Perhaps it was all over for her already. Perhaps Sir Aubrey was already in possession of a special license in anticipation of Araminta’s triumph and when Hetty returned home, Araminta would ask her to be maid of honor. That is, if she wasn’t married to him already.

  When Jem arrived at the designated coffeehouse, he slipped into a booth, barely looking either in the eye.

  “Dunno why you sent your sister when you’re here anyways,” he muttered. “The fewer what knows, the better, I say.”

  There was no purpose in telling Jem the truth. Hetty got to the point. “What did my sister say when she saw the letter?”

  “That I�
��d be rewarded handsomely. Miss Partington has a glib tongue on her, I’ll give her that.”

  “You should never have taken that letter, Jem,” Jane burst out. She reached out her thin hands in a gesture of angry despair. “I jes hope you ain’t going to rot in a cell for it.”

  Hetty closed her eyes briefly, almost too fearful to ask the question. For if Araminta had made off with it, there was nothing Hetty could do. “Where is the letter, Jem?”

  “I ain’t got it with me. Put it back, didn’t I, after Miss Partington saw it.” He raked his hand through his light-colored hair, wearing the expression of one who has just about reached the end of his tether.

  Hope flickered in Hetty’s breast. “She didn’t take it?”

  “Said she didn’t have the money but she knew someone who did and that she’d come back.”

  Hetty’s heart pounded painfully as she leaned forward. “When did she leave? Do you know where she went? And when can I see the letter?”

  He sent her a wry look. “Miss Araminta left less than a half hour ago and I’d only just hid the letter again and was back at me work when I heard you was after seein’ me after all.”

  “Please, Jem, I have to see that letter.” Hetty knew she sounded desperate. “I’ll pay you well for it, I promise.”

  “Ain’t worth me job to go back and fetch it now. Me master’ll be comin’ back from his ride and I got to get ‘im ready. As for your sister, I dunno where she went.” He nodded his indication the interview was at an end. “With respect, miss, let me tells yer this, I’ll be givin’ that letter to the first person what gives me a fiver fer it.”

  “That’s downright greedy, Jem,” Jane sniffed. “You’re just lucky you are that Miss Hetty ain’t about to report you.”

  Hetty rose quickly. There was no time for recriminations when her greatest priority was to find Araminta. Perhaps she’d written down the words or committed them to memory and was now on her way to find Sir Aubrey.